Guilt
by KreacherofHabit
Summary: It has eaten away at Sweeney for years, and it may have affected his memory. Bennett and Sweenett. One Shot.


Guilt

**A/N For all my readers of "The Weekend Trippers" who are shipping Sweenett (like myself). Since that's turning out a little…difficult, let's say, here is a short one shot with some heavy Sweenett. Set before Ben goes to prison and after Sweeney is successful in killing the judge and beadle.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sweeney or Mrs. Lovett, they belong to each other.**

Benjamin had been drinking again. Lucy could tell, even though her husband wasn't home. Only a handful of men had come in for a shave, and when business was slow, he went to drink. Lucy tried to reason with him, that squandering money on ale would only drain their pockets faster, but Ben didn't listen.

Ben, as it turned out, wasn't frequenting a bar. Instead, he was under the steps that led from his land-lady, Mrs. Lovett's, house to his own flat. He could hear the sound of shouting coming from the Lovetts. There was the thump of a punch that made Ben wince, and he took another sip of ale. He shook the bottle lazily, nearly spilling some because it was still very full.

The sound of the shouting escalated and Ben could hear the footfalls of the two, even with Mrs. Lovett's shouting. Suddenly light flooded the street as the door opened and Albert Lovett stumbled onto the street, clearly more intoxicated than Ben. He slammed the door behind him and staggered onto the street, looking for a bar, Ben guessed.

After a moment the Lovetts' door opened and Mrs. Lovett poked her head out. Even with the dim streetlamps, Ben could make out the red mark of a bruise forming near her eye and cheek. There was the trail of a tear on her face.

"Mrs. Lovett," Called Ben. He stood and walked toward her.

She turned to face him, her eyes wide with fear, "Oh, Mr. Barker, you gave me a fright."

Ben put a comforting hand on Mrs. Lovett's shoulder, "I'm so sorry Mrs. Lovett. Do you want to talk about it?"

Mrs. Lovett turned her face into Ben's chest and broke down. Ben opened the door and ushered her back into her house. They walked through the pie shop and into the parlor. Mrs. Lovett thumped down on the couch and Ben sat down beside her, one of his arms still around her shoulders. Her sobs had slowed, and they sat in silence for a minute before Mrs. Lovett began to talk again.

"I'm sorry you 'ave ta see me like this, Ben," She sniffled.

"No, no, Mrs. Lovett don't be sorry," He soothed, "It isn't your fault, you deserve better than him."

Mrs. Lovett raised her head off his shoulder to look him in the eyes. His face was must closer than she had anticipated. "You're a good man, Ben," She whispered, and before she knew what was happening, he was kissing her. Ben's arm tightened around her shoulders, and his other hand pressed against her waist. Mrs. Lovett arched under his touch, pressing herself closer to him. Ben's mouth moved across Nell's neck, and she pulled him down onto the couch on top of her.

Their gasping was cut short but the sound of Johanna wailing upstairs. Ben froze, and Mrs. Lovett sighed. Ben pulled back into a sitting position and muttered, "I sorry Mrs. Lovett. This can't-I can't-"

Mrs. Lovett reached over and re-buttoned the buttons of his shirt, "It's alright Mr. Barker, I understand. I know this can't 'appen, we're both married." She stood, keeping her face hidden so Ben wouldn't see her watery eyes, and ran into her room.

Ben stood, shook his head, and headed up to Lucy. Tomorrow, he thought, We'll take a nice walk through the market with Johanna, she'll like that.

Sweeney Todd sat in the same parlor sixteen years later, listening to Mrs. Lovett chatter on, again. But this time, both of their spouses were dead.

"Mista T, you listenin'? I wos talking to you Mista T," Mrs. Lovett said.

Sweeney grunted, "What?"

Mrs. Lovett started again, "Why'd you need to, ya know," she made a slash against her throat, "Off, them?"

Sweeney gave Mrs. Lovett a disgusted look, "I need to avenge her."

"I know 'at, love. I mean, if I wos the one who'd broken out of prison, I'd stay away from the men who put me 'ere," Mrs. Lovett said. "Won't it just disgrace your Lucy if you get put away again, or killed?"

Sweeney had stopped sharpening his razor, a rare act that told Mrs. Lovett that he was actually listening. "I need to avenge her," he said again.

"But why?" Asked Mrs. Lovett, "Why do you 'ave so much guilt?"

"Because I loved you more!" Roared Sweeney. Mrs. Lovett, for once, was silent. Then it was Sweeney who broke down. His shoulders sagged and he grabbed the side of the barber's chair for support, "After that night we nearly spent, before that night, during that night, I always wanted you. You had already been married off when met you, and I settled for her." His breathing was ragged, "And I tried to make things right with her and I was captured the next day. If I hadn't married her, she wouldn't have been hurt," He said, his voice breaking on the last word.

Mrs. Lovett stood and walked over to Sweeney. She could see that his face, the usually composed stone façade was a battle ground, Sweeney was wrestling with his emotions for once.

Mrs. Lovett put her hand on his chest, as if her touch could heal his tattered heart. "Wot are you gonna do, now that you've killed the Judge an' the Beadle?"

Sweeney put his hands up to cradle Mrs. Lovett's face. "This," he whispered, and pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was light, like a summer's breeze, there and gone. Then Mrs. Lovett comprehended that Sweeney was kissing her, and she kissed back, forcefully and passionately. It was like all the fires from the bakehouse below them had rushed into the room, and suddenly they couldn't be close enough.

The two merged into one; demon barber and devil's wife. Two old, broken souls that fit together, just enough for one another.


End file.
